


Another Try

by detective_rascal



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Baby Acquisition fic where there is no baby for several chapters, M/M, Retirement in South Downs, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-03 09:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19461478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detective_rascal/pseuds/detective_rascal
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley retire together to the South Downs. They live it up in the tourist village lifestyle for a good 20 years until some familiar faces pop up in their lives once again, and through no shortage of bad decisions (Mainly on Crowley's part), they adopt a child.





	1. Chapter 1

It had been effectively two weeks since the not-end of the world, and unless Aziraphale had kept any surprise visits from any angels starting with “G” or “M” secret, Crowley had understood that both he and Aziraphale had been left alone from their respective sides.   
  
Two weeks may have been either an undershot or overshot of a frame in which time had passed, unfortunately. Somewhere along day two after the start of ‘the rest of time’, Crowley had made the decision to stop caring about passages and periods and all that for a bit. He didn’t need the stress of worrying about whether Hell was going to come after him, even though he was sure they would, so he just decided to forget about it. If he needed to know the date or time, he’d just have to look for it or ask.   
  
It’s not like Aziraphale was worried for him, and if Aziraphale the ever worrier wasn’t worrying about Crowley getting snatched up by Hell anytime soon, then Crowley could breathe a little.   
  
That metaphorical breathing space had led to a spectacular night of drinking, approximately two weeks after not-armageddon, in the back room of Aziraphale’s bookshop. Involving far too many bottles of wine which both vintage and type had completely left his mind, and several conversations that held little weight in terms of the fate of the world.   
  
By Crowley’s sixth bottle, or at least the sixth bottle that he remembered drinking, he had ended up leaning against the angel sitting on the small couch.   
  
Neither Aziraphale or Crowley had actually remembered there being this specific small couch there before everything had been righted, but it wasn’t an unwelcome addition. Especially after the long drunken rant Crowley just performed, words lost to the mechanisms of alcohol, but Crowley’s audience consisting of one angel had nodded and agreed whenever it was appropriate.   
  
A small couch with a soft, cushy angel to lean on after using so much energy trying to talk and pace at the same time, was very welcomed.   
  
The quiet silence was also very welcomed, because while he wasn’t going to admit it, Crowley may have had too much to drink.   
  
“Children are quite… precious. When they’re not soo, mean.” Aziraphale slurs quietly, once Crowley’s head stops spinning.   
  
Crowley looks at him, confused. He was sure his rant wasn’t about children, but now that it’s been a minute, he can’t actually remember what his rant was about.   
  
Aziraphale only turns his head slightly, looking at Crowley with a drunken understanding as though Crowley knew exactly what he was on about.   
  
“Like that dear boy Warlock. He was nice. When he was younger.”   
  
Oh, now Crowley knows what Aziraphale is on about. “What about his 11th birthday? During that disaster of a magic show.”  
  
It takes a second for the insult to register on Aziraphale’s drunken face, but once Crowley sees the flabbergasted indignant look on him, Crowley can’t help the evil giggle and his own face scrunching up in drunken glee.   
  
Aziraphale moves, jostling both their drinks in their hands, but neither of them care about the drinks at this point. The angel was facing him more head-on now, even though Crowley hadn’t exactly moved out of the way to accommodate the change in position. If Aziraphale noticed Crowley staring up at him from where he was leaning on his front instead of his side, then he was putting it on the back burner to yell at him.   
  
“Crowley! I did say younger!” Aziraphale then takes just a sip of his wine before he continues, “And that magic show was not… hmmm. It may have been a bit of a disaster. But barely!”   
  
Crowley just giggles at him again. There’s a light bubbly feeling in his gut, or maybe his chest, or maybe in between the two, but the ability to form coherent words is lost to him at that moment as he soaks up the gentle warmth of the angel in front of him.   
  
Crowley wriggles around to reposition. Aziraphale turning had left his neck in a weird way, and only now was it starting to annoy him. Giggles still popping up in his throat, Crowley was now facing away from the angel, but still using him as a heating rock. Also now one of the angel’s hands was on his shoulder, or more his wrist because he could see Aziraphale’s hand limply hanging on his chest.   
  
“Adam and his young friends, those four were quite nice children.”   
  
“After the whole… Antichrist thing?”  
  
“Oh well, yes. Antichrist aside, quite nice.”   
  
“A bit of… nature vs nurture, wasn’t it?”  
  
“Nature vs nurture?”  
  
Crowley turns his head up to look at Aziraphale, and this time it’s Aziraphale’s turn to look confused.   
  
“You know,” Crowley’s hand makes a rolling motion instead of finishing off his sentence, but then his hand hits the back of the couch and Crowley figures he might as well finish. “The whole ‘biology vs environment’ or whatever debate. Human thing.”  
  
Aziraphale only nods with maybe a little too much enthusiasm for late night discussions, but with the look on his face telling Crowley that his thoughts were somewhere else, Crowley just turns his head back.  
  
He could get used to this. The descriptor of “cuddling” popped up in Crowley’s mind, as he looked at Aziraphale’s hand resting on him, and how he could feel Aziraphale behind him just existing in his soft cushy self, but he flicked the thought away. This was a prime position to fall asleep in, and with the amount of alcohol Crowley was keeping in him, a nap wouldn’t be out of the question.   
  
“I wonder how Warlock would have turned out to be if we were not trying to sabotage each other. A working balance of good and evil, not us trying to make him one or the other.”  
  
Crowley could feel his face scrunching up into something that was no longer a smile before he realized that he was now annoyed. His plans for a nap now had to be postponed, right as he had gotten comfortable.   
  
“Did you just sober up?”  
  
“What? No, just a hypothetical. Adam was nice, he and his friends were quite… precious. Innocent souls to the whole heaven and hell nonsense. I wonder how we could have gone with being… Oh, I forgot what we were.”  
  
“Godfathers?”  
  
“Yes! Godfathers. How would a child be if we, as godfathers, were working together instead of opposite sides?”  
  
Crowley just groans as an immediate response, stretching out his long legs so he would fit on the couch better. Aziraphale was being a comfy pillow and this talking business was getting in the way of sleeping.   
  
“I don’t care, Angel, it’s not like we’re going to be raising another kid any time soon.”  
  
Crowley both felt and heard Aziraphale huff behind him, jostling him the tiniest of bits. But he didn’t care anymore, his eyes had closed and he gently let his hand put his drink on the floor so he wouldn’t spill it on himself. He wasn’t a fan of waking up smelling like alcohol, even though he was sure that Aziraphale would clean him up if he did spill some on himself.   
  
It had been another 10 minutes before Aziraphale spoke again, and by that point, Crowley was truly beyond the point of replying back. Caught in the middle of unconsciousness and dozing, not at all sober or awake enough to comprehend what Aziraphale was saying, but he could feel the movement and rumbling of him talking.   
  
Aziraphale had said; “Just a hypothetical, my dear.” But Crowley never really heard it. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan on posting every Wednesday, considering in terms of writing I'm a few chapters ahead. Hopefully I can keep that up, but I hope you enjoy guys!

In the past, where and when they met was all under the guise of the arrangement. A very weak guise, since half the time Crowley knew he only arranged meetings so he would have an excuse to take Aziraphale out after. Not ‘out’ as in a date, that never would have flown over well, but a good meal to tempt an angel? It was easy bait and his angel always took it.   
  
After not-armageddon though, their peculiar little arrangement had dissolved.   
  
Neither heaven or hell were asking them to do anything anymore, neither Crowley or Aziraphale had heard anything from them in months. Neither had to ask each other favors for ‘work’ and after everything, the idea of their own side had finally cemented. But they still met like before.  
  
Often, possibly even more frequently than when they had the arrangement firmly in place. There were no excuses other than they wanted to, and to Crowley, these more recent meetings started to feel more like dates.   
  
The last time they went to the Ritz, Aziraphale had smiled in such a way that Crowley just had to have a bite of his desert, even though he wasn’t the kind of celestial creature to eat. Oh, he sure had huffed and complained, accused his angel of pulling tricks by pouting and blinking his eyelashes, but he still gave in and ate off his fork. It was good, if maybe a little too rich.   
  
Say what you would of a demon like him enjoying the luxuries, but sometimes a simple chocolate bar or chocolate block for two dollars was more up Crowley’s alley on most days.   
  
There was also the time at Aziraphale’s favorite sushi place, which was his treat, and there he had convinced Crowley to try some things. Not everything Aziraphale put in front of him got passed his initial distrust of him liking the food, but Crowley had eaten one or two bites. That had gotten Crowley a look or two from his angel, encouraging looks, and they had talked about nothing for the rest of the night.   
  
Aziraphale had suggested a picnic once or twice. Instead of meeting on a park bench, or a meal at the Ritz, or just spending time in the back of Aziraphale’s bookshop, he had mentioned a picnic as an alternative to their usual meeting spots. And now after months of going to their usual places and years of denying the possibility of going on one because it was just far too open, Crowley was finally taking him up on his offer.   
  
The bell above the door chimed when Crowley walked in, letting the empty bookshop know he had entered.   
  
The only thing that Crowley spotted that was out of place was the basket, on top of a pile of books just sitting on one of the many small tables. No one was around, and no one was going to stop him from looking inside, so Crowley sauntered towards it for a quick peek.   
  
“Crowley? Is that you dear?” Aziraphale yelled from somewhere in the back.   
  
Damn angels and their timing, always interrupting when things were about to get good. Crowley just huffed, and lifted the tartan blanket that was keeping the insides of the basket secret, and yelled out a reply so that Aziraphale knew it was him and not some random human.   
  
It looked simple inside. The picnic blanket was thicker than Crowley expected, so there was less room to fit things in, but it wasn’t as though Aziraphale skimped out on anything. A thermos in a tartan pattern, because of course, it was, along with a tea set for two, and a small assortment of what looked like soft cheeses in a container.   
  
“Crowley! Are you peeking?” Aziraphale teased, from much closer than the back of the shop.   
  
Crowley spun around, not at all taken surprise by Aziraphale sneaking up on him without him noticing, because of course he noticed. Crowley, 100%, knew Aziraphale was there. There was no need to point out how he had to take a second to right himself, to calm down from jumping a little, or that his answering grin to Aziraphale was covering up that he was surprised.   
  
“Really Angel? You’re seriously asking me if I was peeking?”  
  
“Yes, well- You shouldn’t be! It’s all meant to be a surprise, you know.” Aziraphale huffed at him, placing a book he was carrying onto a small book pile. Pushing it a little so that it was securely on top and wouldn’t fall.   
  
“Surprise? Angel, I’m the one who suggested a picnic for today. Just ‘cause you packed the blanket and cheese doesn’t mean I didn’t know about the picnic.”  
  
“It’s not just that, we do have things to discuss and all that, and I packed tea.”  
  
“Discussing what things?” Crowley didn’t know about discussing things, this was meant to be a simple outing that didn’t involve ‘discussing things’. They didn’t have any of that business anymore, they were free from all that now.  
  
“Heaven and Hell, that sort of thing.” Aziraphale just said as though that wasn’t a very important topic, considering both of their recent histories with ‘Heaven and Hell’.  
  
“Angel, what would we be having to ‘discuss’ about them?”  
  
Aziraphale couldn’t look Crowley in the eye, mainly because he still had his sunglasses on, but even then he wasn’t even trying to look in Crowley’s general direction. “Well we- I wanted to talk about this while we were at the park.”  
  
Crowley slowly walked to where Aziraphale was standing, no longer looking as though he was the content little demon that originally walked through the front door. He wasn’t angry per say, because Aziraphale had seen Crowley furious a few times in the past six thousand years they had both walked the Earth, but there was an angry, worried fear emitting from the demon in front of him and Aziraphale was painfully reminded of when his Crowley had been so hurt months ago.   
  
“Angel. If we have to worry about our old colleagues coming back for us, then maybe we shouldn’t talk in a park! Of all places!” Crowley vehemently spat out, five steps closer to the angel than before, though Aziraphale felt as though that anger wasn’t exactly for him.   
  
Aziraphale looked at Crowley head on then, far more than annoyed than before, but not indignant like usual when Crowley insulted him in any way. He could feel Crowley’s fear and paranoia, his anger was just misdirected, and Aziraphale couldn’t blame Crowley for being worried. He had told him about the Holy Water bath of an execution, and Crowley had told him about the Hellfire in turn. Aziraphale was worried about it all too.   
  
“No no no, well yes, no I mean no. Crowley, we’ve heard not a peep from our respective sides for 6 months now! I truly believe they’ve decided to leave us alone.”  
  
“We’re on our own side Angel.” Crowley just mutters back, more annoyed but listening.   
  
“Yes yes, of course, I mean our old sides. They’ve left us alone for now, but I wouldn’t put it against them if they did decide to come back for us dear, to get revenge or redo our trials or something or other, in some point in the future.” Aziraphale says as he takes the remaining steps to close the gap between them.   
  
Aziraphale could both feel and see that Crowley was defensive now. Crowley knew that he may have jumped the gun in yelling at his angel too soon, but he still wasn’t on the same page as him now that Aziraphale was closer.   
  
“So?”  
  
“Well, I was going to propose a plan for you during our picnic, but I guess now is as good as a time if any.” Aziraphale just sighs, “We don’t know when they’ll come looking for us, it might be in another 6 months, or next week, or in a few years. But, I propose that possibly both of us not be in London when that happens, just so they don’t find us where they left us.”  
  
“Move?” Crowley asks, with an eyebrow leaving the safety of his glasses to arch in question.   
  
“Yes! Move! I don’t think it would have to be too terribly far, because I am still a fan of England, but maybe somewhere in the South Downs?” Aziraphale asks with hope; a hope and expectation that Crowley still doesn’t get, but it is very much his angel.   
  
“I’m sorry Angel, move? Are you really willing to give up this?” Crowley asks with a gesture of his arm, presenting all the first editions and rare copies of very old books surrounding the two of them. “The bookshop?”  
  
“Well. I’ll admit, I would certainly miss this place. But I could always open up a new store near wherever we are. Stores do that all the time. Might not have the same amount of space, but then with a larger space inside a home, I could put all the books that didn’t fit in the new store in there.”   
  
Crowley only smirks and chuckles, muttering, “Of course you would consider getting a house just for book storage.”  
  
“But Crowley, my whole part of this proposed plan was to ask you to move as well. I wouldn’t want to move away from you and you stay, on your own without me close by in case anything went wrong. I would be more than happy to help you move, but dear, is there any way I could convince you to stay close?” Aziraphale asks, and this time Crowley gets it.   
  
It’s the look in his eyes; the hope that Crowley will follow, go with him to wherever he’s heading.  
  
Aziraphale does make sense. Crowley would want to give both the bastards on either side hell, or at least Crowley-branded hell, and moving would probably inconvenience whoever went looking. Crowley could always set up traps in a new place, do the same for Aziraphale so he wouldn’t have to worry about uninvited demon visitors.   
  
If Crowley was close, he could also keep visiting, keep meeting with Aziraphale. The places would probably change, but for Crowley, where they went was never the reason, it was Aziraphale going with him that mattered.   
  
His day-to-day would change too. Crowley was unsure about Aziraphale but for himself, life had gotten a little boring. There were no more orders from below for Crowley to do in poor quality or no more sins and tragedies that he had to report to make them leave him alone. Whenever he did tempting or anything worth reporting back to hell now, Crowley just did it to keep himself entertained.   
  
He couldn’t spend all his time near Aziraphale. Before, the angel was his own personal treat, something he could dangle in front of himself in order to slog through whatever dumb thing hell wanted him to accomplish. Now, Aziraphale was a breath of fresh air in between Crowley’s stale life. A change wouldn’t be too bad, and he’d still be close enough to harass Aziraphale into going someplace.   
  
Crowley didn’t answer Aziraphale, but he did turn around and grab the basket, heading for the door.   
  
“Wait! Crowley!” Aziraphale yells from his spot, his own voice tinged with worry.   
  
“What?” Crowley barks back, stopping by the front door of Aziraphale's bookshop. With the basket now in the crook of his elbow and the pose he strikes as he looks at Aziraphale, he looks like a very annoyed model posing for the cover of a confused magazine.   
  
Aziraphale starts with, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend-” before Crowley interrupts him in the middle of his apology.  
  
“Angel, shut up. We’re going to go to this picnic you planned.”  
  
Said angel in question was confused by that. He was sure that he had said something that had offended Crowley. Judging by the silence and then walking away, surely that meant the demon was angry at him. So he had to ask, “Wait, really?”  
  
“Yes! Now c’mon, close up.”   
  
Aziraphale smiled, beamed at Crowley as he followed him. Maybe Crowley wouldn’t agree to a move, but at least they were going on a picnic. Maybe it was an answer, a yes Crowley wasn’t going to say for some unknown reason, or a very polite no.   
  
Either way, there was camembert that Aziraphale was going to get Crowley to try, and possibly a convincing speech about a small village in the South Downs that Aziraphale knew would be a nice little spot. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Well, do you like it?”   
  
‘It’ was a cottage. Very much like a cottage that would be featured on some kind of country magazine, with the weather-worn brickwork, picturesque windows, garden vine framing arches, and cream-colored door, with Aziraphale standing just in front of it like he was a museum guide presenting a piece of history to a bunch of tourists.   
  
But he wasn’t presenting an old stone tablet with an inscription in a dead language chiseled in, Azripahle was warily presenting a cottage to his closest and only friend. His cottage. A cottage he had ‘bought’, and bought was a strong word since Crowley knew Aziraphale didn’t deal with a single bank or loan to get his new home.   
  
To be fair, neither did Crowley when he first got his flat in London, and he wasn’t planning on getting rid of it human style either.   
  
“It’s very… you.” Crowley could only reply with because it was true. The whole thing was very Aziraphale, the whole village they ended up in was too.   
  
Disgustingly picturesque with maintained coble footpaths and worn brick roads. The main street that was just a strip of cozy themed tourist traps, cafes, and local businesses in the middle of the village territory. Maybe the place was missing a fancy restaurant, and a sushi place, that would’ve made the place ‘perfect’ for the angel’s usual tastes, but Crowley wasn’t going to deny that Aziraphale really did fit in with the aesthetic of the whole scene.   
  
Crowley did not. He had already gotten a few looks from locals when he walked down the main street with Aziraphale, to check out the new space for his bookshop. Which didn’t really matter in the long run, because Aziraphale had spent the entire walk talking excitedly about built-in bookshelves in the walls and Crowley was a little more concerned with trying to keep up with the conversation than giving pesky humans pointed looks.   
  
Aziraphale only hummed in response to the demon, and then opened the front door of the cottage to let Crowley in.   
  
“I’ll admit, this is probably one of the few residences that I’ve lived in where I’m not paying for rent and I actually own, in a sense, but I didn’t want to deal with that rent nonsense,” Aziraphale says as he closes the door behind the two of them.   
  
“Landlords were our invention, you know. Corporate was quite proud of that one.” Crowley answers as he quickly glances inside the kitchen area to his left.   
  
It’s bigger than the kitchen Crowley has at his flat and bigger than Aziraphale’s old kitchen, but then Crowley never used his kitchen except to store his glasses for drinks. He was sure Aziraphale was just as useless with a stove and pan like he was, and Aziraphale was the one between the two of them that ate.   
  
“I’m sure they were, landlords are quite the evil concept.” Aziraphale remarks back.   
  
The two of them chuckle, and the small amount of tension that had built up outside of the cottage dissipated.   
  
“So, I have a kitchen, living room, and a utility room downstairs, and three bedrooms upstairs,” Aziraphale explained as he walked past Crowley to show off the rest of the cottage.   
  
“A lot of bedrooms for an angel that doesn’t sleep,” Crowley only comments as he saunters into the living room.   
  
There’s a couch that seems even old fashioned for his centuries behind angel, and a tv that's large enough to house a medium sized child inside. The wallpaper was floral and repetitive, and Crowley could feel his mouth move into a scowl as he looked at a disaster of a room designed by an 80-year-old grandma.   
  
The angel watched Crowley inspect the living room from the safety of the hallway, just at the entrance to the space. He could see the distaste on his face, as his sunglasses fell just slightly to the bridge of his nose so that he could have an unfettered look at the wallpaper.   
  
Aziraphale had to agree, it was a little bit much, even for him, but wallpaper and furniture could be changed and replaced. He certainly had his favorites, and his tastes, after being around humans for so long, and the cottage wouldn’t be too much work to make it into something more comfortable.   
  
“It’s not exactly up to my taste, but I can change a few things. Oh! And of course, I am planning to bring in some bookcases.” Aziraphale says as he follows Crowley, but still gives him room to look around.   
  
Crowley looked up from his inspection of the wallpaper to give Aziraphale a knowing look, “Not enough room in the new bookshop, hey angel?"  
  
Aziraphale just looked surprised that Crowley could be implying anything, like purposefully downgrading on space for an excuse to hoard his favorites where he lived. Because he absolutely did not at all pick a nice small space in the middle of the village main street to do just that.   
  
“Dreadfully, no! Only half of my stock will fit in the new space, so I guess the more rare and delicate editions I have in my possession will just have to be stored here.”  
  
“‘Dreadfully’? Really Aziraphale? ‘Dreadfully’? You barely let people buy your books anyway.” Crowley pointed at the angel with a loose smile, “You planned this.”   
  
“Well, maybe I’ll be more inclined to actually sell my books this time around. Maybe even stock some newer stories.”  
  
Crowley left the wallpaper to walk up to Aziraphale, “Oh really? You’re starting to sound like you’re turning a new leaf.”  
  
“I’m just getting used to the idea of change Crowley.”  
  
In that split moment, Crowley could feel the light-hearted atmosphere in the middle of the living room had turned into something far more defensive, like a stone wall around a castle. Aziraphale wouldn’t look at him again, pensively looking at the couch instead of at his sunglasses, and Crowley felt like he fucked up again somehow.   
  
The angel had been fretting and worrying about the move for a week, forgoing their dates to restaurants and parks in order to double check inventory lists in the old bookshop’s backroom. Nothing was even moving yet, but still, Crowley had watched him on just one day and he felt exhausted.   
  
And he had made a joke, about sleeping for another century just to recover from watching Aziraphale. And the angel had made it clear that he didn’t appreciate the reminder of Crowley leaving him alone for so long, though instead of getting angry he had just gotten distant and Crowley kicked himself for almost a full hour for it before recovering.   
  
Aziraphale broke the silence, “Would you like to look at the back garden?”  
  
Crowley could only just nod in response, and followed Aziraphale as he lead them down the hallway and through the utility room to the back door.   
  
The garden was nice, but a bit of a mess. Crowley could see that obviously things had been left alone for a while, but the garden held too much structure in its design to look good without care.   
  
The weeds in the garden beds looked out of place considering there was a clear barrier between flowers and grass with a small rock border. The grass was too long to pass for a magazine cover, like the front garden was able too, probably because someone could garden out front without any obstacle.   
  
The slate pathway was nice, in a very cliche ‘fairy-tale garden’ way but Crowley didn’t see much wrong with it, except that it only went to a stone bench that was by some overgrown hedges and not anywhere else of note. A vine-covered wire archway looked as though it was on its last legs, and Crowley could just feel the anger start to boil inside of him as he looked at the helpless plants that obviously needed to be in the ground before they-  
  
“The greenhouse came with everything else.” Aziraphale just murmurs in Crowley’s direction, once his gaze focuses on the building.  
  
Crowley looks at Aziraphale, trying to find something in the angel’s face that alluded to him being out of the dog house. He didn’t look any happier, or sadder, but when Aziraphale looked back at him he only looked expecting.   
  
Oh well, he might as well look into the greenhouse.   
  
Crowley walked past Aziraphale, leaving the angel behind to wait by the door and headed for the greenhouse. It wasn’t a very big one, maybe able to fit around twenty medium-sized plants in pots, but Crowley wasn’t going to judge until he had a look inside.   
  
The latch on the door had rusted over, but that was nothing to Crowley. Inside was where it counted, and it was certainly a treasure trove.   
  
The greenhouse had a structure of bench then shelf above it, with enough room on the bench to leave plants in their place and also pull them out to take care of them without competing for space. The shelf closer to the ceiling was high enough to get good sunlight but leave enough room for plants below to grow, and Crowley was tall enough that the height wouldn’t bother him if we went to reach any of the plants.   
  
There was enough space under the bench that small crates full of tools were out of the way of walking, and bags of soil with stacked empty pots sat next to the tools. The same set up was mirrored on the other side of the small greenhouse, so there ended up being a lot of storage space for plants.   
  
But with all treasure troves, there was also the mass of corpses of those locked inside.   
  
Crowley’s nose shriveled at the smell, which wafted out of the opaque glass building with a swampy, simmering heat that didn’t agree with him at all. The sight to him was unseemly, nearly disgusting, and if the plants inside were people Crowley was sure he could get across just how horrific the scene was. Nothing organic had made it through however long the back garden had been abandoned for.   
  
“Crowley?” Aziraphale asks from the safety of his spot by the back door, and Crowley only responds back with a solemn shake of his head.   
  
“Oh dear. That’s a shame, I thought that maybe you’d be able to recover something.”  
  
“Honestly Angel, it’s a mass grave in there,” Crowley admits, as he gently closes the door like he was leaving a mess behind for someone else to clean up.   
  
Aziraphale only grimaces in response as he wrings his hands, and Crowley leaves the greenhouse alone to its lonely existence as a plant burial ground.   
  
“Crowley, I want to apologize-” Aziraphale starts.   
  
“What for?” Crowley cuts him off, “It’s not like you were responsible for them Aziraphale.”  
  
“No no, I mean for earlier. We did so much to save everybody, to keep the world exactly the same as it was so that our lives wouldn’t change, and now…” Aziraphale looks only disappointed in that moment, airing out his real feelings to Crowley in his now back garden.   
  
“Now our little bit of the world has changed.” Crowley finishes.   
  
“Yes! Exactly! I had this grand plan to move us so we would be a little safer from our previous sides, but now everything has been uprooted and I have to settle again.”  
  
“You’re telling me, Angel. I signed up for this too and I still don’t have a new place to be.” Crowley finally admits.   
  
Aziraphale had definitely won Crowley over with his unplanned-yet-planned proposal to move, not due to the logic he had made, but because Aziraphale wanted Crowley. It wasn’t exactly what Crowley wanted to hear; something far more explicit and more ‘lovey dovey’ was what the demon wanted to hear.   
  
A confession, to something that he knew he himself had buried deep in his chest, and wanted his angel to mirror. But Crowley would gladly accept whatever sliver of attention the angel was willing to give him, and the picnic they had in St.James park was enough to tie him over till they had met next.   
  
That didn’t mean that he had sorted anything out yet. He didn’t even know where Aziraphale was headed until the day before when he had invited Crowley to see his new place today.   
  
“Wait, you don’t?” Aziraphale suddenly looked confused, as though he thought Crowley had already sorted himself out.   
  
Crowley just had to open his arms, and show Aziraphale’s own back garden to help prove his point. “Angel? Look around. I’d fit better in a rabbit hole in the woods nearby than in any of the livable places here. Not really a demon’s scene.”  
  
“Oh, I do see where you’re coming from.” Aziraphale just admits.   
  
“And it’s not like there’s much for me to do either. There’s only so much tempting someone can do all year round here. Oh, sure tourist season will attract some couples I’ll be able to make fight, and maybe the odd shady fellow, but I think old Mrs. Sunhat with the sick roses down the lane might be my only source of entertainment for the rest of the year.”  
  
Aziraphale still looked as confused as before, so he had to ask. “Why?”  
  
“Well she’s not doing a very good job of looking after her roses, is she? I wonder how that’s going to go.”  
  
Aziraphale was pensive again, but this time Crowley could tell he wasn’t in trouble. He was just thinking, not holding his tongue, or suppressing an emotional outburst, but solving a problem without airing out his thoughts.   
  
“Crowley, if you don’t have a place to stay just yet, I have three bedrooms I’m not using.” Aziraphale offered, with that expecting look in his eyes again. The look that Crowley had always been susceptible to, and had only gotten more susceptible to over the past recent years.   
  
“I thought they were for your books?” Crowley asks as if he wasn’t going to take upon Aziraphale’s offer because of some old books.   
  
Books that Aziraphale did love, and were probably going to be invading every room in the cottage that was now owned by the angel anyway, no matter if Crowley occupied space or not.  
  
“Well if you don’t mind a bookcase or two, I think my collection will be fine.” Aziraphale fires back, with an almost matched enthusiasm to what he had when he was talking about his new bookshop space to Crowley not hours earlier.  
  
“You sure you could handle me, Angel?” Crowley flirts back, because that is what he is doing, no matter if his angel gets it or not.  
  
“I’ve handled you staying over the night before when you’ve refused to sober up and leave,” Aziraphale admits, and it is very true.   
  
Crowley had definitely overstayed on some nights, purely because he could and it ruffled up his angel’s feathers the morning after to the point where Crowley could have a good chuckle and feel accomplished.   
  
It felt like the roles were reversed then, like Aziraphale was tempting him to do something forbidden and Crowley was the one who was meant to refuse that temptation. It almost made him feel proud, in a demonic way, because his dear angel was finally doing the serious tempting between them.  
  
But Crowley was a demon, had been for a very long time, and he wasn’t going to refuse such an offer. Not when Aziraphale was offering, not when the offer was too good, so close to what Crowley truly wanted from him. If this was as close as he was going to get now, Crowley was going to take it.   
  
“Okay then Angel, why not.” 


End file.
